“Because, sir,” said he, “there was a castle here in the old time.”
“Whereabouts was it?” said I.
“Yonder,” said the man, standing still and pointing to the right. “Don’t you see yonder brown spot in the valley? There the castle stood.”
“But are there no remains of it?” said I. “I can see nothing but a brown spot.”
“There are none, sir! but there a castle once stood, and from it the place we came from had its name, and likewise the river that runs down to Pont Erwyd.”
“And who lived there?” said I.
“I don’t know, sir,” said the man. “But I suppose they were grand people or they would not have lived in a castle.”
After ascending the hill and passing over its top we went down its western side and soon came to a black frightful bog between two hills. Beyond the bog and at some distance to the west of the two hills rose a brown mountain, not abruptly but gradually, and looking more like what the Welsh call a rhiw or slope than a mynydd or mountain.
“That, sir,” said my guide, “is the great Plynlimmon.”
“It does not look much of a hill,” said I.